


Quieting Kankri

by hedgeblog



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Chubstuck, Feeding Kink, Homestuffed, M/M, PWP, Weight Gain, especially in it, some ableism from kankri bc he cant avoid his own dickishness even in shameless porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-24 09:44:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8367595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgeblog/pseuds/hedgeblog
Summary: In which it becomes very clear very quickly that no natural force has ever succeeded in stopping Kankri Vantas’ jaw flapping, and Kurloz Makara (a proven expert at shutting a troll's mouth) is intrigued.





	1. Kurloz

From the moment you first laid eyes on him, you knew Kankri Vantas would be perfect. 

 

Oh, all in due time, of course. The loud-mouthed little mutant was not yet ready for your affection, but with just a few minor adjustments you would have your sweetest candyblooded brother, properly plump and gorgeous and docile and all _yours_. Just how you liked them. Just how you like Kankri. 

 

****

 

You could remember first seeing your beautiful little fucking nooktease, strutting around in nothing but those awful wonderful leggings hiked all the way up to his topmost row of delicious, cherry-red grubscars. The skintight material of his sleeveless singlet shows off his lovely round ass _just so,_ not to mention all the other nice, soft curves all around his plush body— temptingly wide at the hips, a round cherubic face, a cute little sloping pouch of fat already present on his belly, practically advertising its potential— the overall effect had made your head swim with wanting.

 

Then, Vantas had actually opened his mouth, and within a minute you'd had to stifle a groan of annoyance. In three minutes, you'd no longer felt any need to hold back your eye rolls and derisive laughter, which had only made him puff up and scold you harder. After ten agonizing minutes, Porrim Maryam somehow miraculously interjected a point in between the ceaseless blabbering and provided you a moment to slip away quietly under cover of the little fireblood cattily shooting down her argument. It became very clear that no natural force had ever succeeded in stopping Kankri Vantas’ jaw flapping, Maryams included.

 

From there, your obsession with the mutant could only grow. You found yourself more and more often imagining Kankri in your lap, Kankri in your arms, Kankri underneath your own body, pliant and purple-eyed and growing soft, oh so soft, with a thick soft belly resting in his lap and big pillowy thighs and a gentle, vacant smile as you lift more food to his waiting, blessedly motherfucking silent lips. Kankri will be so beautiful, once he just shuts the motherfuck up and lets you mold him the way you want him. You will make him happy, so bliss-happy he'll never want for anything again. He should be thanking you, really.

 

****

 

You start small. You begin spending more and more time hovering around Kankri’s lectures, tuning out the blathering in favor of paying attention to the plate of cookies or box of donuts you’d always manage slide surreptitiously in front of the preachy idealist and whichever poor soul he'd managed to rope in for sermon time that day. The ~~victim~~   _student_  was always visibly grateful when their unwitting captor would stop to take a bite, which Kankri interpreted as his lectures working ‘via a process of occasional, _planned_ silences, which allow my words to truly sink into the mind of the listener (or, as I prefer, ‘student,’ so as not to be insensitive to speaking or hearing-impaired trolls who communicate via Beforan sign language, as they do not listen due to their lack of aural capability preventing them from doing so as normal members of troll society.)’

 

You lets Kankri think whatever he likes, as the effect of the constant snacking begins to show on the already-plush troll’s body; his love handles expand to the point of sagging, his luscious hips widen to give him a definite pear shape, and his thighs fatten as to touch all the way down to his knees, giving him an adorable waddle. His ass jiggles constantly when he walks, and you can't help but take the pleasure of feasting your eyes as you walk behind him. Your fingers absolutely _itch_  to feel his thick, plump, motherfucking gorgeous body and you just can't help but speed up your plan. Through a little, gentle chucklevoodoo-tinged pushing, eating pauses are no longer confined to lecture time and become a regular part of Kankri’s life, much as you become an even more regular part of Kankri’s life. You begins offering yourself up as ‘student’ more days than not, eager to get your lovely curvaceous boy alone and your voodoos into his pan. 

 

Oh, how his beautiful eyes burn with your purple as you gently, ever so gently, encourage the small, lonely, gluttonous voice in the back of his thinkpan, the one that whispers that he'd might as well enjoy something, what with his vow of chastity, it might as well be food. It whispers he's not that fat anyway, he looks the same as ever, people are listening to him more, at least people listen now, all he wants is for someone to listen and comfort. Your horns tingle with pleasure as your chucklevoodoos wriggle into his fears and amplify them to the point of soft red tears spilling down his unmistakably round face. 

'Please, help me,' wobbles shaky and tear-stained from his squawkblister. A wide, wicked grin splits your face, and you help him.

Careful not to dispel one bit of the haze in his pan, you pull gently at the invisible threads of his hands and mouth and belly and coax him to eating the feast you've set out before him. Gradually and, of course, completely motherfucking coincidentally, the anxiety and loneliness leave his pan as he fills his stomach. Your poor sweet lovely Kankri eats and eats until his belly is full, and then, with your psychic urging, until he can't manage to swallow another bite, his belly hard and stuffed and pushing down his leggings.

 

With your 'voodoos still clouding his pan, his inhibitions are as good as gone, so as he rubs at his mercilessly overstuffed stomach with an agonized smile on his face you sink down to your knees and bury your face between his thighs, licking and kissing at his dripping nook through the fabric of those leggings. Kankri's soft moans turn appreciative when you deftly catch your claw in the fabric of the crotch and tear it open, freeing his squirming bulge, to which you offer a kiss before pinning it out of the way to drag your tongue over his nook, which twitches and leaks cherry-red genetic material. You pay special attention to his sweet little pleasure nub with the tip of your tongue, making his jiggly body thrash with sensation and making your own nook ache for attention. Later, you tell yourself. It'll be right, when your Kankri is ready for you.

 

The feeling of denying yourself your own pleasure must encourage your sadistic streak, you think as you withdraw your mouth from that gorgeous nook before there can be any release and feed Kankri's bulge into his own nook, thereby pushing him into a sea of sensation from which he would not achieve climax. You leave him like that, whimpering and full and desperately seeking an orgasm that will not come to him.

 

Oh, but you are a cruel motherfucker. Hell yeah, you love it.

 


	2. Kurloz -*-> Kankri

Your Kankri grows lovelier by the day. 

 

After that first stuffing, he’s begun to crave the feeling of fullness, the feeling of being absolutely fucking filled to the brim with delights until his belly is stretched, bright red, and looking about to burst. He comes to you for his fix, of course, and what can do you do but indulge your lovely boy? You stuff and feed and play with him on a daily basis until he’s putty in your metaphorical hands, as well as soft and doughy under your literal ones.

 

It was all too easy to convince him, in your softest purring tones (with only the gentlest of ‘voodoos flexing nigh-imperceptible tendrils in his pan), that his time is better spent with you, that all he needs is to lie back and let you do with him as you please. He’s not without his occasional outbursts, of course, about how the Beforan system of culling puts you in an irrevocably uneven power balance or some shit, but they’re easy enough to quell with a well-timed light snack of a cupcake or twelve, accompanied by a half gallon of milk or so to tide him over until the next urge to lecture. Then another snack. Then another.

 

 

Overall, you’ve found it to be an excellent system of shutting Kankri Vantas the fuck up.

 

 

He’s asleep on his couch, your precious boy, his huge belly pooling in his lap and pushing his gorgeous thick thighs apart. As you approach him, you notice the grease stains around his mouth with a grin—he’s been eating without you. And from the look of all the fast food wrappers (neatly stuffed back into their large bags, because Kankri is organized to a fault), he’s consumed enough calories to feed three trolls, even without the treats you brought for him.

 

 

Do you care?

 

Of motherfucking course not.

 

 

****

****

****

 

A gloved hand pushes at your shoulder and you wake slowly, blinking and rubbing your eyes with one pudgy hand, a yawn pulling at your plump lips. The eggplant couch groans a bit as you shift your weight, making a pair of painted lips curl noticeably. Speaking of noticing, your ruby red eyes quickly zero in on the cluster of bags clutched in the skeleton troll’s other hand, and your stomach rumbles right on cue. 

Your name is Kankri Vantas, and Kurloz Makara has just kindly woken you up for a meal.

 

Kurloz’s eyes twinkle with joy as you smile beatifically at him and reach for the snacks in his grasp, which he holds ever so slightly out of reach of your chubby grasping fingers. You pout in a way you know he finds adorable, and the highblood relents, offering you an obviously fried treat of some sort that you can’t identify, but that drips sugar all over your face and hands. 

 

Your belly gives an unbearable growl and you snatch it out of Kurloz’s fronds and stuff it into your mouth, moaning as the sugar lights up on your tongue in just the way you’ve been craving. The treat is quickly devoured and you chirp for more, unconsciously rubbing your grasping fronds over your huge belly. You just know you’ll feel so wonderful once you stop being so… _empty._ It’s been far too long since you’ve been properly full, you realize, and with a head full of pleasurable fog, you push your ample rumblespheres together and allow Kurloz to push an enormous cup of something thick and sweet between them. You wrap your lips around the fat straw and start sucking ravenously, cold creamy bliss directly into your filling belly, never wanting this feeling to end. You just need to be full, then you'll be able to think clearly.

 

***

 

As you feel your grasp on consciousness start to slip, Kurloz groans softly from behind you and stuffs another fistful of fries into your mouth. You chew the salty, greasy mouthful and push it down into your now almost rock-hard belly, clutching and rubbing at the mound desperately. You're definitely awake now.

 

“Come on Kurloz, just a little more, almost there, just, _please_ -“

The clown growls and slaps your poor overstuffed stomach, making you squeal and moan and beg for more contact. His ungloved fronds rub and soothe the places where he leaves angry red slap prints, moving himself to your front to do so as his arms are no longer long enough to reach all the way around your massively expanded torso from behind. One little thought niggles in your mind, a frown spreading across your unmistakably fat face- soon even you won't be able to reach all the way around your enormous belly. You feel a tiny tug in your thinkpan, followed by overwhelming corrective euphoria and a throbbing sensation in your bulge. Kurloz will love you even bigger. The thought fills your entire pan and you can't help but reach across the table and spoon more food into your mouth with renewed vigor. You like making Kurloz happy. When Kurloz is happy, you're happy.

The top button pops free from your shorts and your belly surges free, the sudden extra room making you sigh in relief. To your _(motherfucking delight) ___, the rest of the buttons give up their fight and as a result you pretty much burst out of your XXL shorts. You feel Kurloz's hands scrabbling desperately at your stomach flab, his moans muffled as he buries his face in your neck, jerks his hips once, and you suddenly feel a cold sensation spreading all around your backside.

 

__

Of your own volition, you smirk. Kurloz is so easy to please. And it's so wonderful to affect him so deeply with something as simple as outgrowing your clothes, especially as it's happening more and more frequently. You scrape your spoon against the now empty casserole dish, stuffing a last spoonful into your greedy mouth. Mmm, so delicious... You lean back against Kurloz, who is clearly still enjoying the hazy afterglow of his orgasm, and ever so gently grind your full, round ass against his oversensitive bulge. He keens and moans and grinds back, and though your belly is aching from fullness, you press his hands hard against it and growl " _More._ " 

You can't (motherfucking) wait to be _absolutely fucking huge_ for him.

__


	3. Kankri

Chew. Swallow. Chew. Swallow. You heave a heavy sigh, taking a moment to survey the feast in front of you. If you crane your neck, you can just see over the pile of grubburgers and crullers and fries and every other treat you'd requested from your... matesprit? kismesis? moirail? Kurloz? you aren't honestly sure how to file the affection you receive from the indigoblood, and your mind fogs up a funny shade of purple whenever you think about it too hard. Eh, it's probably nothing. 

Presently, the clown is off getting the ice cream you'd demanded of him only a few hours after he'd stuffed you so full of grubloaf and Nutella and milk you couldn't hardly breathe without getting a whiff of chocolate hazelnuts. The times you can go between meals are getting shorter, and you fucking love it.

 

You shift your massive weight on the couch, the furniture creaking ominously with every shimmy of your jiggly body, and fluidly pop another few donuts into your mouth, washing the treats down with a few last swigs of heavy cream, which just about finish off that particular carton. You knock back another half a carton before sinking back into the cushions, patting and rubbing your satiated gut as a few small burps escape your lips. You part your thighs to allow your enormous belly to rest in between; the weight of it becomes a little much to comfortably sit on your thighs after a while without muscle strain, and as Kurloz loves to remind you, the less exertion the better. That is fine by you, you think, since at this point you can barely move your own ass without breathing hard. 

Another four or five burgers make it into your lap. You can't help it; they're just so good.

Your belly forms two rolls, brushing your knees, and is well on its way to reaching the floor, which Kurloz often points out to you with a grin. You had honestly found it to be a bit excessive at first, but now a hazy, pleased smile graces your plump lips whenever you think about his grin as he caresses the upswell of your huge gut.

 

Fries come next, and you gleefully stuff handfuls and handfuls of greasy potato into your mouth. They're just so delightfully salty and crunchy, you moan around each enormous mouthful.

 

You love it when Kurloz is happy. Your whole thinkpan just fills with delicious purple-tinged ecstasy when he gives you his special smile, his painted lips curling to reveal the glinting tips of what you know are wickedly long and sharp fangs, and his tongue swipes over them… after that y ou’ve long become accustomed to blacking out with what you assume must have been the sheer pleasure of his attentions, usually waking you up with his amazingly long tongue wriggling in your nook or with his mouth swallowing down your bulge to the root, making you trill and coo happily until you flood his mouth and coat his face with your genetic material. 

 

Wash the grease down with a nice cold milkshake or three.

 

Sometimes, Kurloz gives you an extra special treat and wakes you up by sitting on your face or your bulge, riding you so violently your soft body ripples. Those are your favorite times, because you get to watch him shake too, rubbing his thumb on his pleasure nub until he can’t hold back his chirps and moans, his bulge finding a home between the folds of your enormous stomach as he impales himself desperately on your bulge. He trills sweet praises for your body in a high register you hadn’t realized he was capable of, what with his rampant inhaled substance abuse, which could really be triggering to some… and… and… 

 

Oh gods above, why are you so _hungry_. 

You rip into a pan of brownies with a voracity unexpected even to yourself.

 

What were you thinking about just now? Your… body? Kurloz certainly loves it. He can’t seem to keep his hands off every wobbly curvy fold of you, squeezing and jiggling and sometimes slapping, which used to make you snap at him but for some reason just makes you giggly these days. You’re so much happier now. You used to be so angry and upset all the time, and you can’t even remember why anymore.

 

Sometimes, a small part of your pan screams that this is wrong, for… some reason? You’re not quite sure, because whenever you get ‘that motherfuckin’ spark in your sponge’ Kurloz is always there to feed you, fuck you, pap and soothe you, and rub your horns and your ever-expanding belly until you’re purring and so, so full and blissed out and all you can see is beautiful, beautiful indigo. 

 

Why would you ever want to leave?


End file.
